


Running is a Victory

by sister_dear



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Legend (Linked Universe) is a Little Shit, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Self-Destructive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29766711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_dear/pseuds/sister_dear
Summary: So maybe Legend took a look at the little pot of medicine, resting so innocently in his hand, and shoved it back into his bag as he’d done every day for the past several weeks. So what? It’s his body, his choice.
Relationships: Legend & Sky (Linked Universe)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 96





	Running is a Victory

**Author's Note:**

> Very little editing on this one. I just needed to get it out of my system.

It’s an unassuming little pot. Plain, glazed clay, the lid held on with a twist of wire. The herbal smell of the contents leeches out from the less than perfect seal, infecting everything else in his bag with a particular mix of woody, leafy scents that Legend forever carries around on his clothes and in the creases of his skin. 

And then there’s the pot's companion, a bottle half-full of a potion that Legend has gone taste-blind to after years of small daily doses. Both are stored deep in his bag, tucked down where his spare clothes protect them from shattering and accidental grabbing alike. 

Legend hates them both. 

He hates that he needs them. To be so reliant on something so easily taken away. 

Some days he wishes he could simply force his body to function normally through sheer willpower. Joints are not supposed to scrape and burn at every minute shift of weight. Fingers should be strong, able to grip a sword, not needing rows of rings to disguise their swelling. 

So maybe Legend took a look at the little pot of medicine, resting so innocently in his hand, and shoved it back into his bag, as he’d done every day for the past several weeks. So what? It’s his body, his choice. 

He knew, even as he did it, the lie he told himself. 

His choice, and here are the consequences. 

A club comes for his torso, and Legend’s joints scream as he ducks away.

Legend is never completely without pain. Few of them are, in truth. 

This is significantly worse than usual. Which would be fine - what hero is a stranger to fighting through injury? - except the stiffness is impacting his range of motion.

His bones scrape as he deflects the club with the mirror shield. The moblin staggers, off balance. A well-timed spin catches it in the chest, knocking it off its feet entirely. Legend grits his teeth, feels the impact in every joint of his arm as he puts his whole weight behind a final downward thrust. It's clumsy. It lacks grace. At least it does the job.

Legend spits blood, swiping at his mouth with his wrist. It’s nothing; a bitten lip from a glancing blow. Another monster separates from the pack that he and all his companions are fighting, heading his way. He yanks his sword free. Or tries to. His grip is weak. It won’t come loose. Legend grits his teeth and concentrates, pulling to no avail. Hyrule yells his name. He’s on the other side of the battlefield, but Legend knows it’s him. The monster is nearly on him. Legend abandons the sword. His hookshot stuns the new monster.

Sky finishes it. 

The monster hits the ground between them with a meaty thud. Blood splatters across the dirt. Legend doesn’t think he’s imagining the loaded look Sky gives him. He ignores it. Both hands, this time, and his sword comes free. 

Sky looks like he wants to say something. Later. Legend will deal with it later. For now, there are still monsters to battle. Shoulders hunched, every step stiff and aching, Legend stalks off in search of the next one. 

△△△

Later comes too soon. 

Sky approaches Legend in their hastily constructed camp that evening. Legend doesn’t look up as Sky settles beside him. The dry scrape of a whetstone over his blade fills the space between them.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“That’s too bad,” Sky snaps. Actually snaps, anger coating his words. From near anyone else, Legend might have expected that tone and so ignored it. From Sky, it’s startling enough for Legend’s hands to still, his head coming up. Sky looks him straight in the face. All softness is fled from his body. His brows are pulled down, mouth set in a serious line. 

“You haven’t been using your potion.”

“Nope,” Legend tosses back, flagrantly irreverent. A little thrill runs through him, lights up his nerves and makes cutting words quiver just behind his teeth, ready to be unleashed. Sky is angry so rarely. He’s certainly never expressed outright anger directly at Legend before. 

Sky breathes out, and already Legend can see that temper being tucked away again. 

“We’re worried about you.”

“That’s too bad.”

Sky shakes his head rather than rise to the bait. Disappointing. The desire to fight itches under Legend’s skin. 

“I didn’t come over here to yell at you.”

“Could have fooled me.” Legend tosses his head, ignoring how his neck twinges.

Sky’s mouth only tightens further. He pulls a bottle from under the folds of the sailcloth and drops it in Legend’s lap. Legend lets go of the whetstone, fumbling to catch it. It’s full to the brim with a very familiar potion. 

“Hyrule is going through his things and Wild’s, trying to figure out if we have the right ingredients to make more of your cream. He’s convinced you ran out and haven’t told anyone.” 

Legend’s heart drops into his toes. He lifts his head, searching the camp. There. Legend doesn’t need to be close enough to actually see in order to know that Hyrule is biting his lip, that he’s fighting against hands made clumsy with worry. He can read it in Hyrule’s body language as he goes through his bag, picking up bottles and pouches and bundles of plants, putting them back just as quickly. Wild sits beside him, fingers swiping over his slate. As Legend watches he stops to show the screen to Hyrule, who shakes his head and returns to his bag. 

“I haven’t told him otherwise. That’s your decision to make.” 

Legend hates Sky a little bit, for putting that choice in his hands. 

“Either way, you should talk to him.” Sky leans forward as if preparing to stand, apparently having said his piece. 

“Don’t you ever just hate it,” Legend blurts before he can stop himself. He doesn’t specify what ‘it’ is. Sky will know. Sky with his breathing problems, with his ever-present need for naps, with the days he’s constantly stopping to duck behind a tree-turned-makeshift-latrine while Four or Warriors stand guard and the rest of them move on to give him a bit of privacy. Sky will know. 

“Of course.”

“You never act like it.”

Sky hums. Legend waits to see if more is forthcoming. When there isn’t, he scoffs. He’s not sure what he was expecting, but he’s disappointed all the same. 

Sky shakes his head. “I don’t have answers, Legend. I do my best to live each day, same as you. The same as all of us.” He looks past Legend’s shoulder to where Legend can hear Hyrule in tense conversation with Wild. “You should talk to him. Let him see you’re all right.” 

Don’t spend the night wallowing over here. Warriors would say it. Sky is too polite. He nods, seems to hesitate, then stands and leaves Legend to scowl at his half-sharpened sword. The potion bottle glitters up at him in the light of the dying sun. 

Legend pops the cork and takes a swig. He doesn’t want to think about it. He isn’t going to think about it. Legend sheaths his sword with jerky, aching motions. His rings clink against glass as he grabs the bottle and stands. Each step towards his friend aches and grinds and stabs. Each step is a victory. 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be like Legend, friends. Take care of yourselves.


End file.
